The truth is... It is easier for the most part. I don’t feel like I want to vomit or run or scream at the universe for losing my Kate and Paisley.
Because they’re gone and I can’t make them come back. I lift my hand from Emerson’s stomach and swipe away a fucking tear.
She makes a strange sound low in her throat. “I— I didn’t know any of this.”
“Hey, come on. Don’t cry. You didn’t know. Only a few people do.”
Emerson’s hot tears drip onto our hands. I breathe in, breathe out. “Emerson, stop. You’re killing me. Don’t look so sad. I’m okay.”
“Shit. Why didn’t I know this? You’re making me cry.” She wipes a hand underneath her eyes. “You pretend to be so together and you have this baggage. Baggage, damn you. Now you’ve screwed up this whole picture I’ve had of Dylan Mercado.”
I rub my hand over my damp chin. “Baby, I never pretended to be anything but real with you. But I made this promise to myself to live each day for the present. I can’t look back at what happened then. You shouldn’t either. That shit hurts too much. Today is what matters.”
“The past matters, too. The people. The mistakes. The lessons.” She sniffles and rests her head against my chest.
I stroke her hair while the ten o’clock news comes on. I’m not listening to the reporter. Instead, I listen to Emerson’s breathing deepen. Feel the softness of her body as it molds against mine.
The weight of the past drifts away, leaving my body exhausted, soothed, languid. The flicker of the television throws shadows across her face as I peer down at her closed eyes.
Her chest rises and falls rhythmically. Sleep has stolen her. I tighten my arms around her waist and pull her to lie down with me on the sofa. Emerson’s eyelashes flutter only for a second before she exhales in a sigh.
I feather a trail of kisses across her lashes. “Sweet dreams, Gorgeous Girl.”
Chapter Fifteen
Threats
Emerson
Six foot two inches of hunky male can be a challenge to move. There’s a cramp in my neck from sleeping half underneath said hunky male.
I tiptoe away with the evidence of how hard I slept: dried drool on my cheek.
My toes hit the corner of Dylan’s coffee table. “Fuuuuu...” The rest of my words come out as soundless puffs. I press my hand against my mouth to block the flow of foul words. My pinkie toe screams at the violation. There’s a possibility of an accidental amputation.
Dylan sprawls haphazardly with his arm dangling off the edge. He turns his head into the sofa cushion.
I’m relieved he hasn’t woken. It’s not like this is the walk of shame or anything since we didn’t do more than sleep, but I feel at odds this morning. We’ve passed an emotional threshold in our relationship and there’s no going back. I tiptoe-hobble three steps and bend to search for my discarded boots.
“Where are you going?” His scratchy-throated question taps on my shoulder like a hall monitor.
“Oh! Well, um...I thought you were asleep.” I drag fingers into my mop-like hair, getting them caught in a gnarly tangle.
He looks up at me with heavy-lidded eyes. “You’re not leaving without breakfast.”
I frown. “I’ll be late to class.”
He rolls into a sitting position and pulls his shirt down over the toned stomach, much too slow to cover it. “C’mere.”
I feel so naked since he knows everything about my dysfunctional family. Does he think I’m a total loser? Too many institutionalized and incarcerated skeletons in the closet?
“Why? I can’t. Class. Me. Late.” Oh, for Christ’s sake. I’ve been very articulate since walking. When did I lose my native tongue?
Dylan pounces forward in one slick move and grabs my hands. “Five minutes. Surely you can spare some time to start the day off right.” He gives a little tug on my fingers.
I lift one brow in amusement. “I’m glad you think you can improve my morning.”
“I was talking about my day.” Dylan tilts his head to the side and gives me a naughty look that sweeps me from my head to my socked feet. He pulls harder on my hands and I give in, moving to sit beside him.
“Can’t you skip class today? I could go in late.” He leans over and nuzzles the crook of my neck. His stubble scrapes my skin in a motion that makes my body tingle in response.
“Definitely....” What was I going to say? “Not. No. That answer is a negative one.” I force my eyes open and think of my schedule. Eight o’clock class. One hour break...
His mouth shoots lightning bolts of lust into my body. My nipples peak, very interested in whether his kissing might make it south.
My fingers rake into his thick, short hair. He moans against my ear.
“Don’t,” I say and force my hands to grip his shoulders. “Stop.”
He moves back enough to make eye contact, a sultry grin parting his lips. “That’s my girl.”
“Huh? Did I possibly agree to something?” Maybe I have. My body is plotting revolt against the common sense sector of my brain.
Dylan places a tender kiss on my lips and nods slowly in a you-agree-with-me hypnotic movement. “Yes, I think you said you’d stay a while, let me make you some breakfast, try out my shower with me, go—”
The front door opens and cold air sweeps in on us. Jordy’s eyes grow round as he takes in the scene.
He averts his gaze and focuses on some generic spot across the room.
“Shut the door, man.” Dylan’s voice drips irritation.
Jordy grimaces and closes the door. “What are you doing?”
“I live here,” Dylan says. “And quit acting like you caught us naked.”
Without Dylan’s kisses brainwashing me to stay, I’m able to have a clear thought. “I have to go,” I say, disengaging myself from Dylan’s warm embrace. “Sorry I fell asleep on your sofa.”
One of my boots sticks out from underneath the coffee table and I put it on in record speed. Dylan leans over to grab the other and hands it to me wordlessly. At least he realizes he can’t persuade me to stay. I finish dressing, find my coat, and walk to the door. Jordy hasn’t moved and blocks my path.
“How are you doing?” he asks, his serious expression a little unnerving.
“Oh...okay.” I still feel awkward. Jordy has to think I’ve already slept with Dylan and although I haven’t, it’s only a matter of time.
“Good. I’ve been worried since your break-in. The past few days at work have been crazy, but Dylan said he was keeping tabs on you.”
“I’m fine,” I answer and look at Dylan. He stares at Jordy in a strange way that makes me uneasy. “Oh, I’ve been waiting to hear if your friend ran the tags. If I could tell the cops the name of someone sitting outside my apartment, then—”
“Oh, man.” Jordy interrupts me and takes his cell phone from his pocket. “Gotta take this.” He answers the call and walks to the stairs, leaving me staring after him.
I’m surprised since I hadn’t heard it ring. I guess he’d had it on vibrate.